


the drumline of a willing heart

by tboi



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, oblivious and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tboi/pseuds/tboi
Summary: I love him, they both think.





	the drumline of a willing heart

**Author's Note:**

> my first bmc fic. scary stuff.  
> let me know if i missed anything proofreading/i can improve on anything (u can do this via my tumblr if u dont like commenting.) thanks!
> 
> my tumblr : http://ikesoren.tumblr.com/

 

“I _hate_ scary films,” Jeremy whines, his fists clenched into the fabric of the beanbag he's sitting on. They're in Michael's basement – the air down here is stuffy, and Jeremy credits it for the sheen of sweat already on his face, despite cracking open a window five minutes before he made this claim.

  
“It's Halloween,” Michael says, sticking his tongue out. “Or, almost-Halloween. Pre-Halloween Halloween.”  
  
“What?” Jeremy asks. Michael just shrugs in response.  
  
“I dunno,” he says. “I lost myself there too. But! My point still stands. 'Tis the season, and shit.” He punctuates his point by waving his arms in the air above his head, DVD case in hand as he does.

 

“Okay, okay,” Jeremy says in reply, his voice cracking. Michael doesn't say anything, but his grin does get wider, and Jeremy's cheeks get hotter. Michael snaps the DVD case open before putting it into the player, his small TV lighting up with picture after he smacks the top of it to get it to work. Him and Jeremy had found it at some Goodwill when they were twelve, and Michael still swears it was worth $25 even though it looks straight out of 1996 and he has to assault it to get it to work half of the time.

 

“What are we even watching,” Jeremy croaks through his fingers ten minutes in. Michael is laughing and thumping his feet on the floor as he does it, popcorn in his mouth.  
  
“It's Halloween!” he exclaims.  
  
“Not till tomorrow!” Jeremy says back, and Michael looks at him with the most dead-eyed stare Jeremy thinks he's ever seen.  
  
“That's the name of the film,” Michael says flatly, and Jeremy throws his head in his hands in reply, cheeks heating up.  
  
“I knew that,” he mumbles, and Michael grins at him fondly while Jeremy has his eyes closed, shaking with laughter.

 

“It's a classic,” Michael insists. “You should actually, like, watch it.” He points at the TV as Jeremy lifts his head out of his hands to watch, where conventionally a mechanic is currently being murdered.

 

“Great,” Jeremy says, flat. “Good stuff.”

 

“Right?” Michael laughs, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Jeremy shivers, and this time it's really not because of the film. Jeremy had forgotten to close the window he'd cracked open, too busy trying to not watch the film.

 

“Are you okay?” Michael reaches a hand over to touch Jeremy's shoulder, laughter in his voice gone, his eyebrows knit together in concern all of a sudden.

 

“Yeah!” Jeremy insists. “I forgot to close the window.”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Michael says. “I don't really feel it, because,” he waves his arms out, motioning to the large red hoodie he's wearing.

 

“You don't feel it either way,” Jeremy laughs, and Michael smiles at the comment.  
“True,” he agrees. “Do you wanna borrow this?”  
  
“Um,” Jeremy starts, stops, cheeks hot for some reason. “I'll just close the window,” he says. “I can always – um, put it on later, or something, if I'm still cold.”  
  
“Sure,” Michael responds, eyes flicking back to the TV screen as Jeremy stands up to shut the window, pulling the hatch back. He moves to take back his seat next to Michael, on the matching beanbags they had (also) found at a Goodwill a year or so back. (This time, Jeremy had agreed that the $25 was well spent.) He kicked it forward, slightly, and closer to Michael's, and sat himself back down.

 

The conversation lulled out, after this, Michael watching the movie and Jeremy (genuinely) trying to not look away from the screen anytime something vaguely bad happened. He jumped a few times, and by the near end of the movie he realised he was clinging onto Michael's left arm like some kind of salvation. He almost jumps back, but, he glances at Michael's face and he looks – content. Peaceful, maybe. Which is a lot, considering that, yeah, someone is currently being strangled with a telephone cord on-screen.

 

“Hm,” Jeremy mumbles out loud, placing his head on Michael's shoulder.  
  
“You doing okay,” Michael asks, but it comes out of more of a nervous statement.

 

“Yeah,” Jeremy closes his eyes, exhales, a warm feeling of content filling him. “Tired.”  
  
“Oh,” Michael laughs. “Don't fall asleep on me. The film isn't _that_ bad.”

 

“Is it bad?” Jeremy asks, genuine. “I can't really tell.”

 

“It's like, aged badly.” Michael says. “I don't think it's bad, but it aged badly. It looks like my shit from that film class I took in freshman year.”

 

“Oh yeah!” Jeremy laughs. “That shitty ghost film you made me help with where I had to shake a tree with transparent string.”

 

“Help, My Orange Tree Is Haunted,” they both say at the same time, flatly, before bursting into laughter, Michael pulling Jeremy on top of him by mistake.

 

“Oops,” he says, face flushed. “Sorry.”  
  
“It's okay,” Jeremy sits up, fast, looks away, feels awkward. Feels like he should have minded. “Do you wanna go – back to the film.”

  
“Yeah, sure, sure,” Michael waves his hand in the air, dismissive. He leans forward to rewind so they can see what they missed, smacking the TV multiple times as he does so. Jeremy grins, easing out of feeling awkward.  
  
“You need a new TV,” he tells him, and Michael's eyebrows shoot up.

 

“No way!” he insists. “This shit still works!”

 

“You have to put it down,” Jeremy says, solemnly. “It has lived a good life.”  
  
“RIP,” Michael whispers, smacking the television set again as the picture resumes. “We loved you, Blocky Ass Television Set.”  
  
“A hero,” Jeremy agrees, nodding. “Michael watched much cable porn on you.” Michael slaps him with the empty sleeve of his hoodie at this comment.  
  
“Go back to watching this shit,” Michael tells him, and Jeremy obliges. His head is resting back on Michael's shoulder, soon, unconsciously – their arms are interlocked, and neither of them say anything. Jeremy feels warm, at home. Michael is content, peaceful.

 _I love him_ , they both think.

 

 


End file.
